


All Systems Go

by chaostea



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Dubious Consent, Fucking Machines, Listen they go haymire, M/M, Other, That's why it's dubcon, Tord gets fucked by the robot hands from The End, malfunctioning machinery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:56:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27948683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaostea/pseuds/chaostea
Summary: One evening, Tord is working on the algorithm for the defense system in his giant robot. Frustrated and stressed when the latest update fails, the aspiring dictator decides to relax the best way he knows how. Unfortunately for him...All systems are go.PLEASE READ THE TAGS
Relationships: Edd/Tord (Eddsworld), Tord/Robot Hands (Eddsworld)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 33





	All Systems Go

When Tord had designed his giant robot, he knew the project would eat away at any moment of his free time. He couldn’t count the number of times he blew off hanging out with his roommates to work on the incomplete machine. Tom had been fine to “let him sulk in his room while he masturbates” and Matt usually just shrugged it off. Edd, however, always had an upset expression when Tord told him he wouldn’t be out for movie night or whatever trivial activity they had planned. Tord tried not to let it play on his heartstrings too much, but it was a little difficult whenever Edd looked down at him with those sad green eyes. 

He didn’t particularly _like_ upsetting Edd, but there was too much at stake. Every waking hour he spent with the three going on some hair-brained adventure or fooling around the house, he could be working towards his ultimate goal: _world domination_. The robot was a single step in his plan, but it was a crucial piece. It needed to be flawless in order to bring the world’s militaries to their knees. He had designed it from the ground up to the ultimate fighting weapon: bullet-proof, high-mobility, and unlike any other war machine that came before it. 

In Tord’s eyes, everything about the machine was impeccable.

He had even designed a defense system for the robot. It was still in the works, but he had created a series of robotic hands and limbs that would repair any damages done to the robot during a battle. The geist was that the limbs had been built at varying lengths depending on their placement in the robot. They would snake just under the outermost layer and emerge through self-opening slots. The nimble fingers would rewire or close any opening to the hull and simultaneously any damage done to the inside. It certainly wasn’t perfect, but Tord had already made eight of them and programmed seven of them with the beginnings of the self-defense algorithm. 

Then there was Tord’s love of aesthetics to consider. The horned helmet that contained the pilot’s seat almost had him salivating. His own narcissism didn’t help, as he lusted over the fact he was the one to design it all. In fact? Some nights when he was alone and the mood struck him, he would let his hand wander to outline his dick through his boxers before slipping in. He would imagine the completed robot. It was all smooth plating in a glistening red outer shell with him above it all. All that power beneath his fingertips... 

He would cum _hard_. Pleasure shooting through his erection, a single _“Fuck!”_ hissed in the gloom, and the afterglow settling into his bones- just like his resolve. 

How could he not be turned on? God, the sheer combination of height, strength, and power was absolutely badass... but that was besides the point. Tord certainly didn’t dwell on the fact there might be something wrong with him for feeling such a _particular_ affinity for his creation. He couldn’t get lost in the daydream of his completed giant robot when he still had so far to go. 

When his production was halted one day in the most unexpected of ways, the aspiring dictator felt like the world had turned on his head. Although, that may have had something to do with the fact was he suspended upside down. 

He had been working on a large component of the defense system when things had gone wrong. The seven robot limbs were lying dormant in their charging ports around him. Tord cursed as he typed in code. Why couldn’t he get past this wall? He was so close to completing this damn algorithm, but he couldn’t figure out the last bit of it that would actually make it functional! Damn it all!! 

In defeat, he slammed the laptop shut and heaved in frustration. It was so difficult at times he almost considered giving up. He knew it would come to him eventually, but he’d been having self-doubts lately. Production wasn’t going as quickly as his mysterious sponsors would have liked- Tord couldn’t even begin to fund his army without them. They hadn’t threatened to cut his funding, but he knew it was only a matter of time if he didn’t keep churning out results. 

The communist groaned. He should just relax, but he couldn’t. The young man was wound up and about to _snap_. 

Then suddenly, it hit him. Of course! He just needed some positive endorphins in his system to bring down his stress levels. Then he could focus properly, figure out the last bit of codes needed, and send off the latest bit of research for continued support.

Soon Tord was grinning as he stood up and made his way to the entrance of his lab. He touched his palm to the handprint key and a secret panel whooshed open to his bedroom. Smirking, he approached his nightstand and pulled out a bottle of lube and a large boxed item. He grabbed his comforter and a pillow off his bed for good measure- the floor of his lab was desperately cold after all. 

He knew _just_ what he needed to relax.

The Norwegian was soon kicking off his pants and shucking his hoodie off on his way back to the lab, letting them crumple on the floor. He slid his hand across the handprint key again, effectively closing the panel behind him. Excitement was already starting to build inside him, but he knew he had to pace himself to get the desired release he so craved. So he curbed his wants. He placed the blanket and pillow down in the middle of the pile of robotic limbs before settling down.

Tord allowed himself one long stroke through his boxers- half hard already- as he stretched out on the floor. It was exhibionsism of it all, despite no one being in the room with him. He had never done anything like this in here before leaving his fetishes and solo sessions for the comfort of his bed. The lab was his place for building and experimenting after all. It was almost too taboo to get off in here. 

And that’s exactly _why_ he was going to do it here. Sacred space be damned, he’d use all his innate perversions if it meant getting off and, well... getting back to work and securing his funding.

So Tord allowed the humiliation to roll over him. His face slowly becoming red from embarrassment as he took the mysterious item from its box: it was none other than the missing eighth robotic hand. He plugged it into a spare outlet next to its fellow limbs, the electricity making it _thrum_ to life. There was one outlet just like this in his bedroom. Tord smirked at the five-foot length of it that allowed for optimal reach. When he had manufactured the mechanical limbs, he had made an extra for himself. While the others were documented and clearly for the robot’s inner workings, this limb was secret. His _bonus_ as Tord liked to call it.

The man propped himself on one elbow as he fired up his laptop. It was so hard to stop from touching himself, but he did rub his thighs together in anticipation. The friction was nice and it was a subtle promise of even more sparks to come. Soon Tord was opening one of his saved finished programs and watching as it finished loading. 

God, he needed this. 

Unfortunately for Tord, that’s when his world literally turned upside down. Tord was just able to glimpse the words: 

_**{System Operational- Synched with Other Devices}** _

-before the two hands closest to him grabbed his ankles and hoisted him off the floor. Tord yelped and grabbed at the comforter underneath him, taking it with him. Before he would even process what was happening, he jolted as he felt cool metallic hands sliding up his arms. By reflex, he jerked away and dropped the comforter, his t-shirt bunching up around his shoulders. The hands continued their ascent, pausing to caress around forearms and rub at his biceps. The two were in tandem with their motions and despite the blood beginning to rush to his head, Tord let out a sigh. They were rubbing away aches from sore muscles due to long hours of tinkering.

He certainly hadn’t anticipated _this_. 

Another two hands curved through the air and passed through his caramel locks. Tord gasped as one gently tugged at his nape and the other massaged his scalp. About thirty seconds later, the first hand gave a particularly hard _yank_ that had Tord’s eyes rolling into the back of his head. With the aid of gravity, it wasn’t hard. The second one was still massaging his scalp, but it was now also tugging at his horn hairs too. The pair of hands seems to be pulling and tugging in tandem- just like how the other hands that had rubbed his arms. His head lolled forwards and backwards, alternating between gentle and harsh tugs. 

Fuck it felt good. Even with the crick forming in his neck. 

There were now six hands on Tord- petting him or holding him in various degrees. He wasn’t panting openly yet, but he knew it was only a matter of time if this session was anything like his ‘normal sessions’ with the limb he always used. Speaking of the eighth, another hard yank on his nape had Tord seeing stars, but it also allowed him a view directly beneath him. 

Two hands were still on the ground. The eighth hand still lay dormant but he knew it was active from hearing it come online earlier. The other hand he surmised was because of it’s shorter length- at three feet- because its fingers seemed to be clenching or unclenching. It almost looked like it was in anticipation for Tord to be within its reach. The communist didn’t even want to consider that these things had formed consciousness. All thought of robotic hands with artificial intelligence flew out of his mind though when one of the hands on his bicep moved. It trailed across his skin- barely touching it- before making its way to his exposed chest and harshly flicking his left nipple. 

“Ahh!” He cried. A single finger circled the abused nub before the thumb joined it and tweaked it mercilessly. The result was sparks flying along Tord’s chest and he shook from the onslaught. His mind short circuited as the other hand joined its friend and began to tease his right nipple as well. Tord shook his head as best he could with the other two hands still tangled in his hair, barely suppressing the groan that wanted to rip its way out of his throat. 

Fuck _fuck FUCK_! There was that open panting now. He couldn’t help it! His nipples were incredibly sensitive and whenever he actually managed to snag a one-night stand, he made sure to tell them so. Girls usually found it cute and indulged him; while the guys he picked up always seemed to grin viciously before diving onto them, making him a wanton mess within seconds.

“Please,” he gasped, all sense of pride forgotten. His face was entirely flushed from the blood pooling to his head. “End program!” Immediately, Tord sensed himself being lowered to the ground. He sighed in relief when he felt himself turned over and his knees touch the bunched up blanket. 

A moment later a beeping from his laptop caught his attention. Words flashed on the screen and Tord immediately paled: 

_**{Voice Command Recognized- Can Not Approve- Program Must Reach Completion}** _

'Program must reach completion? It couldn't possibly mean-!' Tord frantically thought as his mounting desperation made him tug wildly at his restraints.

"Computer…" he started, trying to get his breathing under control. He swallowed, clearing his airway so he could ask his question as clearly as possible. "Do you mean that the units must fulfill this program to the specifications of the creator before the program can end?" 

A moment later and: 

_**{Question Acknowledged- Answer Pending…- ‘Each Unit Will Individually Complete This Program Then Shut Down’}** _

"Wait, individually??” Tord gasped out as he read the text. When he had created this program it had been designed for one robotic hand to help him relax and orgasm at least once. He hadn’t enforced the _**{End program}**_ voice command in his inscription. Why should he? He could easily overpower a single hand. However, with all his limbs being tied down and each hand being given the same instruction? He was in deep shit. All units had to make him orgasm at least once before releasing him. 

In short, a minimum of _eight times_. 

He screamed in terror. There was no way he could come eight times in a single session without serious recupcutions! He still remembered that one time about six months ago when he and Edd had still been hooking up. They’d had sex for a solid three hours, barely stopping to rest. It had been hot as hell- Edd being able to manhandle him into half-a-dozen different positions- and Tord had come _six times_ during it. He was near tears by his _second_ dry orgasm. Edd had still forced one more out of him- milking his prostate for all he was worth- making him a sobbing mess. 

Tord’s dick had hurt for a solid week afterwards and he’d walked with a slight limp from the rough (but _every-much-wanted_ ) treatment. Edd was a monster in bed, but he was still a sweetheart in everything else. The British man had felt tremendously bad seeing Tord so wrecked. He had forced the Norwegian to let him look after him until he fully healed. It was sweet, but Tord was so happy though to have his personal space back; and not have a 6’ 3” stumbling giant asking him every five minutes if he needed any more soothing ointment for his “area”. 

Tord didn’t think the hands would be that considerate in his aftercare. 

He was ripped from thoughts of Edd and the dire implications when the hands began pulling up his shirt. He whined as the fabric drew across his hardened nipples. The hands in his hair released him to allow the shirt to be tugged through his disheveled hair. It was tossed carelessly in the corner and Tord shivered at the parallels. 

If the hands on his chest didn’t have All Access before they did now. The one on his right side began to resume thumbing the erect bud and cupping his right pec and squeezing gently. Tord’s own eyes squeezed shut as the left continued where it had left off- pulling, tweaking, and circling his nipple. Tord swallowed hard and let out a broken moan, the stimulation from it shooting straight to his dick. He felt a glob of spit slip from his panting mouth and splatter on the blanket beneath him.

 _God_ , he probably looked like a two-dollar whore right about now.

As if to confirm that sentiment, the hands on his legs were forcing his knees apart, no matter how tightly he tried to close them. Tord hissed in mounting fear and pure arousal, a sickening combination, but one he was unable to escape from. Out of the corner of his eye, the communist saw the three-foot limb rise and then disappear for a second… before he _jolted_. The damn thing was stroking the inside of his exposed thigh! He tried shaking it off, but succeeded in only shaking his ass since the two other hands still had a firm grip on his knees. The cool metal of the hands was beginning to warm up from the contact with his body, but Tord only shivered further; the hand on his thigh caressed him for a moment longer before making its way skyward. 

“W-wait, no-!” The aspiring dictator gasped as it slipped under the leg hole and fingertips brushed against the bottom of one cheek. The fingers pressed along the curve of his ass in an explorative, teasing manner. It felt him up invasively and Tord sputtered as one particular harsh squeeze caught him off guard. The hand cupped his cheek and squeezed and molded the skin between its digits. Tord gasped again, unable to stop the hand and absolutely weak in the knees from the onslaught. 

The hand continued to squeeze the soft, plush flesh beneath its fingertips, and Tord was humiliated it was turning him on so much, considering the situation. He knew he needed to get away before things elevated even more, but he was at an absolute standstill. Only his boxers remained on him and he knew it was only a matter of time before that minimal protection was stripped of him as well.

He really needed to stop subconsciously throwing out ideas.

For a moment, Tord felt tentative relief. The hand was retracting from his ass and slipping out of his leg hole. He also felt the hands on his knees loosening up. Tord wasn’t sure what the change was for, but he wasn’t about to squander it. This entire time, he had been pawing at the limbs on his chest to dislodge them, but it hadn’t done much good. If he managed to throw one off, the second one would just twist a nipple or caress him that would have him doubling over again. It was pointless to try to get away- but this was probably his only chance with just the two hands on his chest and other two barely touching him at his knees. Just as he tensed up to twist away and bolt for the lab entrance (he’d figure out how to shut these things down at a safe distance), he received an explanation for why he had mostly been let go.

Quick as anything Tord could create and engineer with his vast imagination, two hands had snaked out of nowhere and pinned his arms behind his back. With a grunt, Tord was thrown off balance and his chest was pushed to the floor, making his back arch and forcing his ass up. The blanket barely cushioned his fall. A moment later, the hands that had kept his legs apart were working their way up his legs. When he realized their destination, he yelped and struggled to shake them off. After a few desperate moments, he realized it was hopeless. He felt the cool hands slide along his thighs to his hips- before they hooked a thumb in either side of his boxers and tugged them off in one fell swoop.

Now he was completely exposed.

Tord swallowed the knot forming in his throat and fought back against the tears welling up in his eyes. Oh, Jesus _Christ_ , this was mortifying as much as it was _terrifying_. His face was mushed against the blanket and he felt the fabric absorb the moisture from his unshed tears. The hands that had previously been on his chest had joined the two on his back that were holding him down. One snaked its way along his spine drawing tremors from him; while the other rubbed his shoulders, forcing his muscles to relax. 

A few minutes of this passed, the one hand running down his spine without touching his own tied up hands. It teased his skin, just stopping above the swell of his ass before making the journey back to the top of his spine. Sometimes it trailed a single finger. Other instances it used the broad strokes of the entire hand to press against his back. It felt nice and as much as Tord hated it, the repeated motions were starting to calm him. The other hand didn’t help in that matter as it rubbed along Tord’s shoulders. Another hand had even joined it and while his back was caressed, his shoulders were massaged and he felt some of tension ebbing away.

Suddenly though, the young engineer jumped feeling a sixth hand touch his thigh. He couldn't see what was happening behind him so every stroke or touch felt heightened. He took a shaky breath as this hand began to pet him too.

At first, it touched him gently. The hand made its way to the plush part of his inner left thigh and smoothed the thumb along in wide circles, digging softly into the flesh. Soon enough though, it strayed. It teased and groped him, just shy of his hanging ball sack as it petted along his pelvis. He bit his lip as it touched him everywhere but the one place he wanted it most. The teasing had stirred his cock with interest and it was slowly raising back to attention. 

A little shuffling behind him and soon the two hands that were holding his hands together became only one. Tord gave a little test tug and- nope, he still couldn’t break free. The hand holding his hands together had them in a vice like grip. 

Great. His cock was now completely erect, standing proud from his body. He tried drawing his hips inward to protect his pride (and hopefully, his manhood); but of course, it was in vain. 

Fingertips were finally touching his balls. He slumped forward even further, too worked up to resist anymore. The hand that had teased him so much earlier was cupping his balls and gently rolling them in its palm. Tord panted, saliva pooling in his mouth as it traced and pressed gently into his perineum. 

Tord saw stars. “Oh _fuck_ , oh _god_!” He spat out as the hand increased its pace. It had butterfly touches on that single sensitive area that made him breathless. When it trailed back to his balls though, it alternated between gentle caresses lasting an eternity before giving him a harsh squeeze out of nowhere. The pain made Tord’s masochism tendencies blast out in full throttle and he cursed himself. 

All this happened while his spine was still being stroked and the hands on his shoulders had traveled downwards. They trailed along his back before settling on his ass. Tord swallowed when they began squeezing and molding the mounds between their fingers. The plump flesh was so ripe for groping and each time they pulled the cheeks apart, his entrance would appear and stretch. It felt so hot, so _perverse_ that Tord’s mind was going blank. Why had he resisted again? He couldn’t remember. All logic had left him, leaving a wanton mess behind.

Tord was so out of it, he couldn’t even acknowledge when the bottle of lube was picked up right next him. He watched with one half-lidded eye as the eighth hand had lube squeezed onto its fingertips- like Tord had done for it so many times before. This time though, it was another hand emptying the contents. The eighth’s programming was telling it that its target was currently ready for the next phrase. According to its target’s internal readings, it needed to be prepped and then the program could begin the final stage. With a steady hand, the slippery digits curved through the air past Tord and they were out of his mind. 

But only for a moment. 

Tord’s eyes flew open and with a shout, he squirmed on the blanket beneath him. A single pointer finger was pressing against him, his entrance immediately becoming smeared with lube. It worked in circular motions, working the lube around the messy patch of skin even further. The pointer retracted and a thumb replaced it, digging gently against his hole. Tord moaned, shaking, as it rubbed against him. His cheeks were flushed from the constant rubbing of the hands and being held apart.

Slowly the thumb worked its way inside, stretching him and traveling bit by bit. He squeezed his eyes shut as it rotated and dipped in and out of him. It hadn’t been terribly long since he’d last played with himself and it was honestly embarrassing how little discomfort he felt. 

Tord couldn’t help but let out an aroused sob. He didn’t want this, but he was so turned on and desperate for any type of stimulation at this point. A part of him just wanted to lay down and take it: accept the delicious pleasure eight of his creations could give him (hell, he still wanted to know how the fuck they had synched!), along with the consequences of being pushed past his limits. Tord wasn’t a fragile man by any stretch of the imagination, but there was only so much even he could take. He’d learned his limitations with Edd and it seemed these hands- these _machines_ that were destined to help bring cities to their knees- would be giving him another hands-on lesson. 

Quite literally.

Tord was ripped away from these thoughts and brought back to his reality in an instant. He gasped as the thumb rotated itself faster and started to push it way inside him even deeper. It was absolutely obscene the way it was touching him and he blushed even harder. It dug along his walls as it pushed its way to its hilt. It retracted, swiveled, and started the whole damn process over again. The thumb’s slightly thicker width was pressing so well, so _good_ against him, Tord’s mouth betrayed him. Grunts and groans filled the room. He was completely exposed, being stretched against his will, and his dick was absolutely rock hard. 

“Ah, ahHH, AH-!” He cried as the digit disappeared inside him again and again, twisting this way and that, vandalizing him. It was only when after it retracted fully, he was able to catch his breath. Fuck, how was he supposed to get away when-

“FUCK!!” He gasped, nearly screaming from the shock of it, trying and failing to twist his arms away. The hand had returned and this time, the pointer finger had been smeared with its own healthy glob of lube. It pressed its way inside of him, meeting little resistance after the other digit had opened him up. For a few passes, it rotated too and fro as the thumb had before it. As it twisted, Tord heaved, the pleasure shooting straight to his toes. 

_Hellig faen_ -

Soon enough the finger was moving with purpose. It curled inside him, pressing along his walls. Lube made the exploring easy and it petted along his insides. Tord’s lip quivered as it brushed against his prostate- _before firmly pressing down on it_. 

Tord saw stars. His dick was screaming for stimulation and he had just enough control to rut his hips against a raised part of the blanket under his thighs. The soft material felt like heaven and Tord actually mumbled a word of thanks in his native tongue. 

His knees shaked and he sputtered unintelligible phrases- some in English and others in Norwegian. His face was flushed as the finger moved in and out of him- filling the room with squishing noses and Tord’s cries of pleasure. He could just barely see the barreled shape of the limb, pistoning back and forth as it fingerfucked him. His hips rutted against the fabric and with each thrust of the finger, he felt himself getting closer and closer. 

He wanted to touch his dick so bad or have a hand on him, jerking him off. More often than not, the pointer finger was brushing against his prostate as it fucked him. It felt amazing and so wrong all at the same time. Tord shivered as he felt himself open up again and again. He felt so fervid, like his bones were melting from the inside. Pleasure swam through his veins and with a final hard thrust that brushed against his prostate, he was coming.

“Oh, fuck! Oh _fuck_ , fuuck-” He gasped as he spilled over the blanket, the orgasm hitting him perfectly and simultaneously making him flaccid in every way. 

He breathed heavily. ‘One orgasm down.’ He thought wearily, as the single arm powered down- having completed its task and reaching him to completion. Together, Tord and the used hand lay motionless. He was given a minute of reprieve before he felt the telltale signs of his cheeks being spread apart and his asshole leaking lube for his eyeless audience to scan. 

He shuddered as he said aloud. “ _Seven to go_.”

**Author's Note:**

> SO UH-
> 
> This monstrosity is dedicated to to my Discord server and all the folks there!! I love you all and can't stop laughing that this was even an discussion. I honestly can't say I've read any other Tord/robot hands/or even tentacles fics before and honestly? _That's a crying shame_. Glad to add this to the EW fandom dumpster fire.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it! If you're feeling brave, leave a comment. It fuels me. 
> 
> Thank you to ShinyHarpy for being my beta. I love you. <3


End file.
